


Healing

by Ultirex



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Post-MTMTE 29, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultirex/pseuds/Ultirex
Summary: In the aftermath of Megatron's trial, Optimus offers himself up for judgment.





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday gift for the darling Finny! May your gayest Op/Star dreams come true.

When the trial had come to its unsatisfying conclusion, the last person Optimus expected to find lingering around the arena was Starscream. Yet lo and behold, after the majority of the witnesses to the historic legal preceding had filed through the spacebridge back to the mainland, he caught sight of Cybertron’s newest leader breaking away from his constituents and wandering back in the direction of the grand coliseum's entrance. 

Prowl’s words were little more than a dull drone in the background of his processor as his focus wavered. Predictably, Prowl was unamused, and tried to pull Optimus’ attention back with a sharp, “Prime?” 

Optimus’ optics tracked Starscream’s wings as they disappeared through the decaying archway of Raskol Arena. He gave Prowl an absentminded clap on the shoulder and said, “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you back on Cybertron,” before taking off in pursuit of the Seeker. 

Prowl, still fuming from the turn the trial had taken, was left alone to seethe.

Without the engrossed murmurs and roars of the spectators and the flash and hum of the cameras broadcasting the occasion, the arena felt depressingly desolate. The dilapidated roof allowed some light to filter through, illuminating the fissures that ran along the grandstands like veins. Starscream stood in the middle of it all, his back turned towards Optimus, his wings canted downwards. His gaze was directed upward; at what in particular, Optimus wasn’t sure, as the empty stands offered little in terms of spectacle.

As Optimus approached, Starscream’s wings flicked upwards before he pivoted around, the null ray mounted on his arm whirring to life. It was a purely instinctual response to the sound of heavy footsteps treading closer, honed after years of cruel conditioning to such a stimulus.

Optimus winced at the implication. He held up his hands, displaying empty palms in what he hoped was a gesture of peace, and retracted his battlemask before speaking. “I didn’t come here to fight, Starscream.”

Starscream’s weapon remained poised and primed to fire. “You honestly expect me to believe a Prime walks around unarmed? _Please._ Your legion of faithful followers would never allow it.” 

“I’m not lying to you, Starscream,” Optimus said. Then, swallowing his pride with an acquiescent sigh, he gave a slow spin to show that was not, in fact, stockpiling an artillery for an assassination attempt. “You have my word.”

Starscream’s expression remained cold, his optics piercing and his lips pressed in a stubborn line. His null ray thrummed with charge as it remained locked on to the Prime’s chest. It would be so easy; the perfect retribution for allowing a genocidal dictator to walk free all for the sake of upholding an illusion of justice. 

“You’re looked up to as a leader. Murder won’t help you win the favor of our people, Starscream.” Optimus reasoned. He glanced back in the direction he’d come. “Prowl will make sure of it.”

 _You’re lying. No one would know,_ Starscream was tempted to say, but he knew acting on the impulse that was like an itch beneath his plating would not have a favorable outcome for him. Not when public opinion of the Autobots was on the rise.

“Thought you were Megatron, sneaking up on me like that,” he said as he lowered his arm. The null ray quietly powered down as it fell to his side. 

Optimus tread lightly as he dared to get closer. Starscream had once again directed his gaze upwards, and though Optimus would do the same he couldn’t help but notice how a sliver of light managed to accentuate the features of Starscream’s dark face. It was a new frame, bold crimson and muted grey with striking accents of gold, and Optimus’ optics traced along the sharp lines of his nose, curvature of his jaw, and those black markings that bled from his optics.

Said optics trained on Optimus. Starscream smirked at the voyeuristic display and asked, “See something you like?”

“You seem to have a habit of changing your frame,” Optimus commented, finding the ceiling - if it could even still be called that - to be a sight preferable to Starscream’s  
probing stare. Caught in the act. Not even one held in as high esteem as a Prime was above a slight diversion to save face. “May I ask why?”

“That’s none of your business, Prime,” Starscream spat before his better judgment could restrain him from the display of weakness. Surely Optimus would use his newfound knowledge of the evidently tender subject against him, and the urge to once again power up his null ray reared its head - alongside all the strategies he knew for taking down a mech with a major size advantage. “Is that really what you came here for? The great Optimus Prime, fallen so far from grace that you now have nothing better to do than bother me with trivial questions? A pity, really.”

Starscream was a master of provocation. Optimus had enough exposure to the former-Decepticon over the past millennia to become intimately familiar with this fact. And though Starscream’s scathing words did evoke an urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and count to ten until the weary, almost resigned sense of irritation dissipated, he refrained from doing so. 

Nor did he pursue the topic of Starscream’s frame, but he filed away in his processor that curious reaction should the need to bring it up present itself. 

“I meant it when I said I didn’t come here to fight,” Optimus said. “In any sense of the word.”

“Are you trying to tell me that my hostility is unwarranted?” Starscream’s voice dropped to a low growl; yet the threat in his tone wasn’t predatory but rather defensive, an act of self-preservation against a perceived enemy. “You have the _audacity_ to imply that after what you did today? I should have shot you on the spot.”

“And yet, I’m still alive,” Optimus said. Logic yelled obscenities at him for provoking the testy Seeker - the proverbial beast, as it were. His spark, accused by many of being too soft for the burdens he carried, yearned to see his challenges go unmet for Starscream to show mercy of his own accord. “I was bluffing earlier. No one else saw you come in here, as far as I’m aware. You could have gotten away with it. Still could.”

 _But you didn’t_ he longed to add, yet even with his charitable expectations he knew that someone as mercurial as Starscream could only be pushed so far before the outcome would turn grim.

Starscream’s weapon remained lowered, yet his scrutinizing gaze felt like an assault on its own. “What’s your game, Prime? You really came here with nothing more than a death wish? Well that’s too bad. If the rest of us have to live with your decision then you sure as hell don’t get to take the easy way out.” 

His tongue had always been adept at delivering verbal lashings, and he owned that fact. He never was truly unarmed.

Though Starscream’s glare was withering, Optimus remained steadfast before it. “We did not have a choice, Starscream. Megatron found a loophole and exploited it. Allowing the trial to proceed as it was and issuing a verdict and subsequent execution on my own would not have been in accordance with the law.”

“But it would have been _right,_ ” Starscream snarled as he jabbed the insignia emblazoned on Optimus’ chest. He recalled how Megatron had donned that same symbol - the signifier of everything they’d fought against - during the trial, and felt his tank roil with disgust. “And you know it. So don’t go preaching to me about you were forced to comply with some slagging law when you _chose_ to do so. All for the sake of your image.”

Optimus had several feet on Starscream. That didn’t deter Starscream from noticing the proximity of Optimus’ face, a moment made even more surreal by the rare sight of Optimus’ mouth. 

He wanted to sink his denta in Optimus’ lip until he drew energon. 

“I’m sorry,” Optimus murmured.

Starscream’s audials felt numb, those words ringing hollow as he read them from those same lips. “It’s too late for that now. You let him go, the damage has been done.”

Optimus chose to weather the storm, even as Starscream’s taloned digit had begun to dig into his badge. “I’m not talking about the decision I made today. Though it was an imperfect one, I still stand by it. I’m referring to your testimony.”

Starscream scoffed. “It was meant for his funeral. Which this sorry excuse of a trial _should_ have been, had you not let him get away.”

“His epitaph,” Optimus mused, echoing Megatron’s own words. He omitted the fact that Starscream himself had been responsible for Megatron’s newfound will to live. “But I’m not interested in what you intended for your speech to accomplish. It’s the content that troubles me.”

“Not brutal enough?” Starscream stepped back, giving Optimus room to breathe once more. “I knew I was too soft on him. Must be losing my touch.”

Optimus cleared his intake. “That’s - well. I thought it was successful in getting to Megatron. If that was soft by your standards, I’m a little frightened by the thought of what your worst would be.”

“Curious though, aren’t you,” Starscream drawled with a smirk. “If you ever want a taste, I could say so much about you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Optimus said. “Truly. But it was the way you spoke of your relationship with Megatron.” 

As Optimus spoke he approached the stand where Starscream had stood as he’d delivered his rousing speech. He ran a hand along the railing, recalling the eloquence with which Starscream had spoken, and how he couldn’t help but almost admire the way that vicious tongue was also capable of spinning poetry. That charisma was part of what made Starscream so dangerous, he knew, giving him an allure that was as deadly as it was enticing. 

“‘Whipping boy,’ you said,” Optimus continued. He turned, noticing that Starscream had taken up position at the bench where Optimus had listened to him utter those very same words. The Seeker was peering down at him with wary optics. “The nature of your strained partnership during the war is no secret to anyone, not even those among my faction. But though there was talk, I’m not sure many of us were privy to the full extent of what occurred between you two.”

Starscream was staring Optimus down as if he were about to pass judgment on the Prime, his cruel sneer the harbinger of a verdict that would surely be merciless. He picked up the gavel that Optimus had wielded not long ago, testing the weight of it and wondering whether to play up the theatrics and give it a bang as he delivered his next words, or simply make use of it as a projectile. The thought of hitting Optimus right between the optics was a tempting one.

“Don’t pretend like you care. You and the rest of your merry little band of Autobots must’ve loved the thought.” His grip on the gavel tightened, causing the joints in his hand to creak. “The great Commander Starscream, beaten into his place by his genocidal lunatic of a leader. Your people would have laughed.”

Optimus moved in front of Starscream, looking up at him as if he were a defendant awaiting his fate. “Perhaps some would have been so cruel as to delight in the misfortune of an enemy. As Megatron brought to our attention today, there were parties on both sides guilty of indefensible acts. But I promise you that I would not have been one of them, and for what you must have endured I am sorry.”

It was pity, Starscream knew, and he detested being regarded with such an emotion. Yet he knew that Optimus was sincere, and sincerity was a gift he was so rarely granted. Starscream set the gavel down and murmured, “I survived everything that he put me through. All on my own. And I made it here.” He surveyed the empty arena, the seats that had been lined with his constituents. “Not Megatron, or you, or anyone else can take that away from me.”

“I wasn’t planning on threatening your leadership,” Optimus assured him. “And Megatron will be lightyears away, serving as a crewmember of the _Lost Light._ You’re safe, Starscream.”

Starscream’s laugh was humorless. “You can’t promise that. I’ll be safe when he’s _dead._ ”

 _And you’re to blame for that,_ Optimus could practically hear Starscream say, and he knew that those who were still mourning the billions of lives lost would agree. “He’ll be tried by the Knights of Cybertron. You’ll have your justice.”

“Oh, you better make sure of that.” Starscream hoisted himself up on the bench, swinging his legs over and allowing them to dangle off the edge inches from where Optimus stood. “And when they do, I want his head.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Optimus said. 

Prime had already given him more than just about anyone with those condolences alone. But Starscream was loathe to admit such a thing, to give Optimus a window into how lonely his world truly was. So he pressed on, saying, “Then what can you promise me?”

“Anything I can do to help you heal.”

He could see that the world had been unkind to Starscream, and though it was likely too little too late, perhaps a simple gesture of kindness could be the first step towards recovery. Optimus held Starscream’s gaze as he awaited a response, willing Starscream to allow another to help him carry the burden he’d born alone for so long. 

But Starscream never went down easy. He extended one of his legs until his foot nearly brushed the Prime’s mouth and said, “Kiss my feet and tell me I’ve won.”

“Starscream,” Optimus sighed, resisting the urge to bat away the thruster, “the offer was genuine. I want to help you if I can.”

“And I’m telling you how,” Starscream snarled. “If you’re a man of your word you’ll do it, Optimus Prime.”

Optimus knew he could have walked away right then, left Starscream with some parting words about the importance of having an emotional support system. He had a feeling that Starscream expected such a thing, yet beneath the resigned sort of anger in his expression Optimus could see a spark of entreaty; a desperation for this one source of validation, for the debasement of a figure revered where Starscream was despised. 

So he complied. 

He took the offered foot in hand, cradling it with the tenderness one would a protoform or a newly-born spark plucked from a hot spot. 

Optimus pressed a chaste kiss to Starscream’s plating and said, “You’ve won, Starscream. You have survived, thrived, and emerged the victor in spite of the cruelty you’ve been shown.” 

In that moment Starscream felt he finally understood what it was like to be worshipped. Not in the sense of having an army or populace chant him name as he had fantasized about for so long, but in being treated as worthy simply for being alive.

For now, it was enough.


End file.
